


Home?

by klaviergavout



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 05:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: Team Skull is over. Guzma leaves.





	Home?

"I'm leaving," he says, shoving some old clothes into a duffel bag, not bothering to turn around and look her in the eyes. Plumeria can't stop staring at his back; he's spray-painted over the Team Skull logo on his jacket, an ugly red 'X' in its place. He moves just slightly to reach for a pile at the foot of his bed, enough so she can see his front and notice that his chain is gone, that he's even changed his sunglasses to a normal pair.

"Leaving?" It's a useless question and she knows it. She knows he's leaving, because he's Guzma, and in all the six years they've known each other she's never once been able to stop him from doing what he wanted- she's only ever been able to try calm him down, only ever been able to talk through his options.

"What does it look like, idiot?" He throws some unopened bottles of whatever-the-hell-this-is into the bag, more forcefully this time. "I'm leaving. It's over."

_"Over?"_

"Over. I quit. No more boss, no more Team Skull."

Plumeria can't stop herself from laughing at that, at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole idea of _no more Team Skull_ , but when he finally turns and looks her in the eyes she can practically see the rage building inside of him. She stops her laughter short, but holds his gaze, something she's practised for years on countless opponents. "If you leave, then I become boss. The team stays."

"Not if I end it," he replies, in such an uncaring, emotionless voice that she feels her own anger start to itch.

"Are you out of your mind?" She's stood at his side now, prepared to put up an argument, but he's still putting everything he has into that stupid duffel bag, and right now she wants nothing more than to burn it. "You're disbanding Team Skull? For what? Why can't you let me take charge?"

"When the tapu kicked our asses all those years ago, Plums, I should've taken the hint and gone home. But I started all this gang shit up again, and now look where I am! Look what I've _done._ Nothing but fuck things up--"

"No, listen." Plumeria grabs his arm and he shrugs her off with a growl, returning to his packing, but she does it again and he falters. "You're right. Team Skull, we fuck things up all the time. Me and you included. But you brought us all together, Guz. We're a team, and we care about you. We're family."

He's almost taken by her words, a touched smile creeping onto his face and toying with the corners of his mouth, but that last word- _family_ \- seems to ruin every chance she'd earned in the past minute. His face twists into a grimace and he turns on his heel, quickly walking over to the other side of the room, running a hand through his hair.

"What do you know about family? What do _any_ of us know about family? We're runaways. Street kids. We're only together so we don't starve."

"If you disband us, Guz, we _will_ fucking starve," she says through gritted teeth, "or at least, the grunts will. Without us, without Team Skull, they'll be homeless and poor, is that-- is that what you _want?"_

"They can all go back home any time they want to--"

"You _know_ that's not true." And her clenched fists are shaking now, images racing through her mind of countless new grunts telling their stories, of angry parents and deep blue bruises and empty bottles, of broken homes they hadn't left without unearned guilt racing through their veins. Images of meeting Guzma for the first time, the welts on his arms and legs screaming out from his skin, the black eye a perfect indicator. "You of all people should know that's not true."

"Don't give me that talk," he snarls, "don't guilt me for this."

"You're abandoning us, Guzma, you're ending everything we have--"

 _"We?_ " In a moment, they're face to face, and the vehemence is overwhelming. "I have _nothing._ Not anymore."

He zips the bag closed, slings it over his shoulder and leaves without another word.

She makes no move to stop him.

* * *

When he's gone, Plumeria stares blankly at the remains of his room, the empty shelves, the empty chair, until everything blurs. She cries, then, for the first time in years.

When two grunts burst in to see what the matter is, she lets them try in vain to comfort her, lets them hold her tightly until she feels nothing for Guzma's absence but numbness and buried anger.

When she has to tell them all that everything's over, pass on the message that Team Skull has been disbanded, it's a pain worse than any she's ever felt before.

His words ring in her mind for days, weeks afterwards.

_What do you know about family? What do any of us know about family?_

When she finds out that he's returned home- if he can even call it that any more- she slams the table so hard that it leaves a dent. When she finds out that he's staying there permanently again, her days and nights are restless, her consciousness plagued by a twelve-year old ghost with one black eye and welts that scream out on his arms and legs.

Eventually, she's the one shoving old clothes into a bag, preparing to leave for home, and the one question she can never truly answer is _why._


End file.
